CONTRIBUTORS

Must Read Goodness

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Why they call it fiction

Happy St. Patrick's Day! To celebrate, I thought I'd show you the brand spanking new cover of my upcoming Halloween anthology. Yes, yes, I know it's not quite the season, but who knows? Maybe there's a leprechaun hiding behind the industrial rail system on the left. If not, well, the sexy vampire is wearing a green dress. That counts.

Both Ann and I have stories in the Mammoth Book of Vampire Romance 2. According to the cover, the stories are about, "hot blood, midnight pleasures and inhuman passions," which frankly, I need to write about because fiction is so much sexier than real life.

Case in point? My daughter brought home a caterpillar last week. It's part of a school assignment where we learn about nature and responsibility for the next month or so.

They sent a sheet home explaining how to take care of said caterpillar, and the butterfly - until we release it on Easter. Maddie was thrilled for about five minutes - the time it took to name Daisy the caterpillar and find a bright, yet not too sunny spot for it in the kitchen. A spot that is low enough for Maddie to see her pet, but high enough so that her two-year-old brother doesn't decide to give Daisy a ride in his plastic Wonder Pets fly boat.

Everything was fine, until the caterpillar escaped. How? I have no idea. I know I didn't take the lid off, my husband forgot we even had a "pet," my son can't reach it. Maddie, of course, claimed the fifth. Luckily, speed isn't one of Daisy's strengths and we returned her to her little plastic cage. She didn't even protest when I re-enforced the lid with tape. And a small rock.

So now she's weaving her cocoon, happy as a pupae and I'm left wondering how I can write about hot blood, midnight passions and inhuman pleasures when I don't always know how to handle furry, slightly squishy things in my own life. I suppose that's why they call it fiction.